Christmas in Prison John Prine
by John Prine
NOTE: I learned this off of The John Prine Anthology-Great Days, a
highly recommended and imformative collection. I think I kept the keys
the same as the record this time.
[G]It was Christmas in Prison and the [C]food was real good,
We had [G]turkey and pistols carved out of [D]wood.
And I [G]dream of her always even [C]when I don't dream,
Her [G]name's on my tongue, and her[D] blood's in m[G]y strain(?).
Chorus:
[D]Wait a[C]while Eternit[G]y, [C]ol' Mother Natures [G]got nothing on [D]me,
[G]Come to me, run to me, [C]come to me now,
We're [G]rolling my sweatheart, were [D]flowing, by [G]God.
She reminds me of a chess game with someone I admire,
Or a picnic in the rain after a prairie fire,
And her heart is as big as this whole ***damn jail,
She's sweeter than saccarin at a drug store sale.
Chorus
(instrumental verse)
The searchlight in the big yard swings round with the gun,
And spotlights the snowflakes like the dust in the sun.
It's Christmas in Prison, there'll be music tonight,
I'll probably get homesick, I love you, goodnight.
Chorus
[--]Matt Crider
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